


The Great Pie Dilemma of 2018

by stone_in_focus



Series: askpregnantdean 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Collaboration, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Mpreg, POV Dean Winchester, POV Third Person, Pregnant Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4971547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stone_in_focus/pseuds/stone_in_focus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pure fluff piece in which Cas proposes a solution that might even put world peace to shame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Pie Dilemma of 2018

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheAuthorGod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAuthorGod/gifts).



> This was written for a collaboration with [cockleddean](http://cockleddean.tumblr.com) for my [askpregnantdean](http://askpregnantdean.tumblr.com) ask blog. You can find [cockleddean](http://cockleddean.tumblr.com)'s adorable art [here](http://askpregnantdean.tumblr.com/post/130894467618/art-by-cockleddean-who-was-lovely-enough-to). :3

Call the presses; it's finally happened.

Dean Winchester has too many damn pies.

He peers down into the sterile glow emanating from the icebox, standing in a pair of well-worn pajama pants—which is more clothing than he usually dons for earth-shattering revelations at two in the morning. There's gotta be a package of frozen kale in here that he can toss out, but no matter how deep Dean digs, he finds nothing that wouldn't feel like sawing off a limb to part with. Stupid pregnancy hormones are already gearing up for the waterworks. He loves him some pecan pie, but the apple…now that's an American classic. Maybe he doesn't really need the key lime, but what if he's in the mood for something tropical? Or something with a bit of tart to it?

It's like asking him to make the _Sophie's Choice_ of desserts.

He briefly entertains the idea of selling one of the clunky old motorbikes for parts just to buy a second freezer. Hey, when you're putting on the extra padding for a human garbage disposal, it's a _totally_ rational thought.

Dean releases one of those heavy-ass sighs as he hangs from the freezer door, leaning in and letting the cold air wash over him, prickling his skin till he's covered in goose bumps. Fuck, that feels awesome. He'd rather stab himself in the thigh than endure another goddamn hot flash, so bathing in Antarctica's just topped his favorite things to do list, ringing in right above sex. Yeah, _that_ awesome.

Huh. Nipples are lookin' pretty perky, too.

Dean gives one of them a squeeze for good measure.

"What are you doing?"

He so did _not_ just bang his head on the icebox. "Dammit, Cas! What'd I tell you 'bout sneaking up on me like that?"

"Plenty, but I feel the need to make an exception when frozen foods have taken my husband hostage in the middle of the night."

Cas shuffles over and wraps Dean up in his arms like he's some fucking burrito, but Dean ain't willing to deal with the spicy burn that comes along with it. "Ugh, _God,_ you're hot."

"Yes, I'm well aware," Cas says, burying his nose in the back of Dean's neck, "but how is that relevant to this conversation?"

Dean snorts, a wry smile creeping onto his face. Smug bastard, too. "No, Cas, you're making _me_ hot."

"Again, I fail to see how this is new information."

It's a lost cause once Cas starts working those lips of his just behind Dean's ear, grazing down towards the crook between shoulder and neck and counting Dean's freckles with the wet, open heat of his mouth. And when the low rumble in Cas' throat and the soft hairs of a beard in the making fire off Dean's gut like a cap gun round, Dean figures what the hell—there are worse ways to die than heatstroke.

After a slow, lazy kiss that leaves Dean smoldering from the inside out, the palms of Cas' hands settle on the bit of pudge Dean's packing just above the waistband. "The baby all right?"

Clearly, Dean's not getting out of this cuddle trap anytime soon, so he allows himself to give in, nuzzling Cas' cheek and breathing him in. "Yeah, she's—he's—good."

"Then if you're feeling up to it, I believe I have a more creative solution for both your temperature irregularity and your pastry dilemma." Cas takes the half pan of pecan from Dean, retrieving a small bag of ice from the freezer and setting the pie in its place. "Your 'perky nipples' may appreciate the tactic as well."

Well, shit. Looks like Dean's gonna be hitting the top two on his favorite things to do list tonight.

He's married a fucking genius.


End file.
